


9 Muses

by DaturaMoon



Series: Ezra/ Prospect [19]
Category: Prospect - Fandom
Genre: Black Reader, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-16 11:15:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29081502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaturaMoon/pseuds/DaturaMoon
Summary: self indulgent Drabble :)Ezra x Black F reader (writer)
Relationships: Ezra / Reader
Series: Ezra/ Prospect [19]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1919083
Kudos: 2





	9 Muses

As the blank screen stares back at you, anger mixes with annoyance and creeps in your veins.  
“Taunting me. Just - taunting me.” You say, tapping your fingers at the keys.  
It was beautiful, a whole fic unfolding in your head. You just didn’t have the time to sit and write it out, not until now.  
But now, of course, here you sit infront a blank screen and your mind decides to take a vacation. Every time you start to type, you freeze, nothing comes out.  
“Shit.” You contemplate closing the document, your eyes following the little pointer as you hover over the x in the upper right corner.  
You don’t hear the front door open, or the key turn in the lock with your headphones on.  
“Little Bird? Where are you Gem?”  
Ezra calls your name. Eventually he peeks into your shared office and steps inside.  
Feeling his presence, you turn around to face him. With a smile, you slide the headphones off your head.  
“You look so cute.” You coo.  
He still has his worn briefcase in his left hand, the one he liked to take to the shop.  
The wind outside tossed his curls about his head and he was wearing that very comfy grey T-shirt he loved with blue jeans and his black boots.  
“The way you regard me has the power to wash away the most difficult of days, leaving only that light euphoric feeling.” He puts the briefcase down and quickly reaches the chair so he can kiss you.  
You hum against his lips and rest your palms on the sides of his neck.  
“I’ve disturbed you, my apologies,” he glances quickly at the computer before recapturing your eyes, “I’ll leave you to it.”  
He starts to stand up but you hold him in place.  
“No, it’s okay I can’t write right now I’m just...blank. I have nothing. I’m so upset I had the best idea and....” you trail off.  
With a sympathetic sigh, Ezra stands as you pull your hands away.  
He moves over to the couch by the window and pats his lap. He smiles and the moment his dimples appear you instantly feel less upset.  
You settle into his lap easily as his arm wraps around your body to hold you in place. You kiss once more, this time drawing it out before either of you speak again.  
“The muse is not lost my love. She may be wandering or off on a brief siesta. But I promise you,” he caresses your cheek with his free hand, “she shall return and soon you will sit right there typing with such fury I can hear the song of the keys in the other room.”  
You grin, feeling better and more hopeful. Sure, you knew these things but sometimes it helped to hear someone else say it.  
You nuzzle your head into the nook of his neck and drape your arm across his chest. Taking a deep breath in, you smell the leather of the hardcover books and scent of the wood from the shelves.  
“Was it a hard day at the shop today?” You ask softly.  
“Don’t fret my Dove. Our little shop is fine and well, infact a book came in that may be just the thing you need.”  
“Oh, is that so?” You raise your head and take in the fine details of his face.  
“It’s about the 9 muses, I briefly read it over lunch and saved it for you.”  
You plant a kiss on the tip of his nose, “thank you baby.”  
Ezra steadies his eyes on yours.  
“All 9 muses live with you, always. You are a deep well of creativity my orchestrator or worlds. Spellcaster of stories, designer of archetypes. Never doubt your Kevva-Born gift.”  
Feeling close to tears, you press your forehead to his, feeking beautifully overwhelmed by the moment. A sweet silence passes this way.  
Ezra speaks first, “speaking of muses, I wrote a tune about you little bird.”  
You light up, “me!”  
He nods and helps you both up to standing.  
“Come my Calliope, let us unwind and repose.”  
“With pleasure!”  
Taking Ezra’s hand, you leave the blank document behind as you make your way to the living room.  
There was something deeply calming, almost spellbinding about watching Ezra play piano. He’s been so busy at the shop it was now rare to see him there, you missed it. You missed watching his fingers stroke the keys and dance across them as if guided by a divine force.  
Now, the treat would finally come. Your muse would return, eventually. Tonight you rest and savor the evening with your man.  
You breathe out the last bit of stress and anger as you settle into the couch and wait for Ezra to play.


End file.
